


and listening left your father's golden house

by AlphaStarr



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe- Fire Emblem: Fates, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Community: femslashficlets, F/F, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Table Challenge: Sappho, School Idol AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 12,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8085406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaStarr/pseuds/AlphaStarr
Summary: Twenty ficlets for Cordelia/Lissa, writ over a fortnight. Prompts belong to the Prompt Table Challenge: Sappho provided by femslashficlets. CURRENTLY COMPLETE.Latest, Sept27: Sacrifice and devotion are hereditary & lift your voice in song & she says it's fate, then laughs & and listening left your father's golden house.





	1. 20: spangled is // the earth with her crowns

**Author's Note:**

> thus far, i think there will be no set sequential order to these ficlets, nor a concrete universe. i think i accidentally began writing chronologically? oops.
> 
> challenge rules include a wordcount ranging from 100 to 1000; my counts are provided by [word count tools](https://wordcounttools.com/) (google chrome extension). there are twenty prompts taken from remnants of the poet sappho. 
> 
> i have never done a dreamwidth or livejounral challenge before, despite desperately wishing to. i found this prompt table with perhaps two weeks to its deadline on september 30, and began writing with eleven days left. i can only hope to finish.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crowns of flowers in lieu of gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count: 550

She is assigned the task of guarding Princess Lissa, that spring before riders and pegasi fully fledge.

Cordelia doesn't understand, at first, the purpose of her presence in the princess' wake as she gathers herbs outside of town. It is silent, there, the meadows vast, and Cordelia feels foolish standing in full armor, bearing a lance amidst such serenity.

"You don't have to stand there all serious, you know," Lissa laughs, muffling her snorts in her palm. "You can braid flowers, or something!"

"With all due respect, milady, I must follow my captain's orders," Cordelia replies, though she is painfully bored-- capable of neither relaxing completely nor throwing herself into practice.

"It's okay, you know," Lissa shakes her head, plucking hyssop and thistle. "There's nothing _really_ dangerous here... it's too close to town for wild animals, and too far from the market for thieves. It's all right if you want to relax a li-- owww! I think I pricked myself!"

"I brought bandages!" Cordelia hastens to open her kit, but knows too the truth of those words. There are no threats, out here, save for insects and thorns, and o, what a waste of her warfaring talents!

But weeks later, the knowledge ebbs on her-- as she watches the young princess twist vines into clumsy braids, impatiently humming a commoner's tune to pass the tedious work. The sun, her hair, glistening both the same color, and she hastens back the beginnings of a stave to heal a villager's malaise, her hands rubbed raw by the bark.

But it works, and though her fingers ache, Lissa smiles and says, "I'm just happy to help."

(Her heart, thinks Cordelia, seems truly joyous.)

Lissa has never been the luster of metal, thinks Cordelia, she has never been her brother Chrom with his holy blade nor the Exalt Emmeryn, garbed in her halo-coronet, gold. But the smear of mud upon her face as she frolics in the marsh, the flowers gathered to her breast, these suit her as if she had been born for them.

The meadows out here are her kingdom, where she hitches up her skirts to clamber past knots of felled trees and briars that she may hone her clerical craft, that it may someday be useful to her people. A noble cause borne by a nobler heart, thinks Cordelia, and grips her javelin tightly, for there she learns how desperately noble hearts must be _protected_.

And Lissa, with her headdress askew and petticoats dragged wet, is perhaps the noblest of them all.

Cordelia, with untrained hands, braids the flowers that day-- though she still stands, lance resting in the crook of her elbow. It seems a crime to her that such a head should go without a crown; she offers one up without a word.

"For me?" Lissa asks, surprised, but wears them all day, until Cordelia's amateur craftsmanship falls from her ears.

But Cordelia learns, later, on the borrowed remnants of Sumia's fortunes, and then her crowns hold as true as Lissa's royal blood. And one day, gathering twists of balmwood in her hands, she begs-- "Please, Lady Lissa... teach me to wield the stave."

The princess turns, then-- braided daisies in her hair, violets at her feet-- and replies, smiling:

"Okay."

(Cordelia falls a little bit in love.)


	2. 5: He seems to me equal to gods that man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coming of age with a harpsong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [full poem here](http://fsf-mod.dreamwidth.org/1396.html). word count 666 (and, 6+6+6=18)

Chrom turns eighteen, that year, with all the splendor afforded a prince coming of age. 

The Falchion, though it long ago chose him as its next wielder, becomes his completely, that day. Emmeryn bequeaths him the Sacred Blade, as a gift from House Ylisse to his defense of the people, and the citizens of Ylisse rejoice, for too on that day does he found the Shepherds' militia outside the royal military, an organized effort to protect even Ylisse's border towns.

But the most splendid ceremony, that day, is neither his acceptance of the Holy Blade nor the christening of a new army. In Lissa's eye, it is the sound of a harp and the sight of its player, her red hair fluttering with each stroke like a hymn within itself. The grace of her fingers, the chords of the ceremony music-- they flow together breathlessly, and something like the urge to cry rises in Lissa's throat because she is so beautiful.

When the procession ends, Cordelia and her delicate hands are swept away into celebration for a prince come of age, and though Lissa rushes to speak to her, it is Chrom who reaches her first, who has the advantage of receiving her curtsy, of bowing and kissing her hand in return.

"Congratulations on coming of age, milord," she says, flushing from the compliment of his favor. "I wish you and your new militia the best of luck in the upcoming year."

"I have a good feeling about it," Chrom smiles back. "Cordelia, right? You played the harp back there... it was like you entranced the whole court."

"Um, I... well, milord, I..." Cordelia but reddens further, rendered momentarily mute. "To receive such high praise... from milord..."

Captain Phila, with bandaged fingers, swoops in to ease her embarrassment-- "She is excellent, isn't she? Though it's unfortunate I couldn't play today due to my injury, I couldn't have asked for a better replacement, especially on such short notice."

"Captain Phila!" relief crosses Cordelia's face. "I can only hope I played half as well as you did for Lady Emmeryn's coming of age."

"Better than half as well. You have a gift for playing with passion," she nodded. "What do you think, Lord Chrom?"

"I think that I'm not very well versed in music," a wry smile. "But that song... it was so beautiful that I'm not sure anyone was paying attention, afterwards."

Cordelia loses her words, then, venturing only a slight smile in reply and a nervous laugh. She seems, to Lissa, gentler yet in that moment, perhaps still gentler than she'd been as her fingers plucked deftly each string. And Lissa, unable to behold her in silence any longer, squeezes past into the innermost circle of Chrom's friends.

"It was amazing," Lissa says, bounding up to ruffle her brother's hair-- she likes not the way Cordelia looks upon him, flustered.

"What, no congratulations for your big brother?" Chrom laughs, nudging her back.

"Emm and I already celebrated with you this morning," she elbows him in return. Adds, "But, Cordelia... the way you played the harp today was just... radiant. I wish you would play for me, too, when _I_ turn eighteen!"

"Are you sure, milady?" Cordelia is flattered, and it shows red upon her cheeks. "Would you not prefer to have Captain Phila perform, as she did for Exalt Emmeryn, when you come of age? Even in four years' time... I don't expect to become her equal in the harp so soon."

Lissa's heart beats birdlike, quick and light. "I want it to be you. The way you played... I've never heard anything like it."

"Then, if you still wish it nearer your eighteenth birthday, I would be honored to perform for you."

And with those words, the heavy dread falls from Lissa's mind entirely, her worries assuaged. Perhaps, then, when she is of age-- perhaps Cordelia will have a gentle laugh, a humble smile for her as well. That will be gift enough, she thinks.


	3. 2: Some men say an army of horse and some men say an army on foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> renowned for their strength, for that too is beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [full poem here.](http://fsf-mod.dreamwidth.org/620.html) word count 400

The Plegian War comes quick, that year, and the Pegasus Knights of Ylisse assemble en masse to guard their border. There is a saying, from the days of Marth, that an ally on wing is the most beautiful thing any soldier can see from the battle-torn ground. There is a saying that pegasus knights are like angels, to those soldiers-- and, too, become angels true when they pass from this world, christened by the fall of horsefeathers.

Those sayings frighten Lissa, when they fall from Cordelia's lips.

"Do you think... you'll die?" she ventures, hesitant.

"The captain says there's always the danger of it, in war. But those who become pegasus knights choose to do so _because_ we believe Ylisse is worth protecting, even with our very lives," Cordelia purses her coral lips. "Lissa... you have a kind heart. You need not worry for our sake, milady... merely arrive at your destination safely."

"That's what Frederick says, too, about the cavaliers," Lissa sighs, and worries her lip. "But I want _you_ to be safe, too."

"You honor the pegasus knights with your concern, but such matters are in our own blades, and in the hands of the gods," Cordelia replies, clipping her spaulders in place at last. "May Naga protect my sisters and I as well, on our flight, and may the Hero-King lend us strength."

Lissa stands, frozen, aching to correct the misunderstanding. Aching to say that it's Cordelia's _personal_ safety she wishes for.

Instead, she manages, "I'm not Emm or Chrom... but I'm descended from the Hero-King, too. H-here! Take my hair-ribbons, and... I hope they help protect you."

"Milady?" surprise tinges Cordelia's voice, and Lissa's hair topples onto her shoulders in a halo of gold.

"Take them," Lissa offers, white silk between her fingers.

Cordelia's hands lift and brush Lissa's gently. She accepts, voice soft, "Thank you."

And with ribbons knotted to her armor, Cordelia takes off, wingspan-to-wingspan with her sister-knights as they scout the ground for a village compromised or a Plegian advance. Lissa's never been very studious, but she knows enough-- there are over a hundred pegasus knights in the Ylissean employ, and thrice that number in local militamen and ground soldiers. _Ylisse will be safe_ , she thinks, and prepares to journey over the Feroxi border.

Her hands hesitate over her stave. _Ylisse will be safe_ , she assures herself again, _and Cordelia will be, too_.


	4. 8: their heart grew cold // they let their wings down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> renowned for their bravery, too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count 520

"A hundred of my sisters became angels today," Cordelia says, her pale cheeks streaked wet. Both of Lissa's ribbons, stained with the maroon of blood, sit in her hands-- they are unthreaded from her armor-ties.

Lissa's heart sinks, silent. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

"The fault was not yours, Lady Lissa," Cordelia swallows. Her hands tremble, extending. "Your gift... it protected me well. But... gods, the blood. No matter how I washed them--"

"It's enough that you came back alive. That's more important than a couple of old ribbons," Lissa swallows the lump in her throat, and wonders if it was her selfishness that prevented the protection of the others.

"I've failed you, milady," Cordelia's words quiver. Her fingers tighten around their offering. "I've failed to protect my sisters... I've failed your blessing. Ah, gods... forgive me..."

And o, how little experience Lissa has with her authority, the power wielded in her blood. She has not Chrom's strength, nor Emm's patience, and neither does she possess the Exalted Brand. Doubt is her enemy, then, and silence, and Lissa doesn't know what to do, here, what she can possibly say to make things better.

Her eyes clench, and she begins to weep, too.

"I'm sorry, Cordelia," tears sting at her eyes, and she pulls her close. "I'm so, so sorry..."

"I've never been in a battle like that before," Cordelia sobs, and clutches the princess tight. "It was... _oh_ , it was awful. The Plegian vanguard... they fought like monsters, like they were trying to draw out each death. My sisters... their screams... it's nothing like the poems. The bravest knights, when they fall, don't become angels before they hit the ground."

"Did you think they did, before?" Lissa whispers, squeezes her gently.

Tears drip from her lashes, "No... not really. I only thought... I only thought it would be less _horrible_ than it was. My squadron chief, begging me to warn the Exalt with her dying breath. The din of battle as I retreated, letting my sisters die for me like a craven..."

"All of Ylisse is safer now because of it. Because of their sacrifice," Lissa sniffed, trying hard not to ruin Cordelia's clothes. "And because you lived, okay? We'll make it the rest of the way to Ferox, tomorrow, and Flavia'll send as many Feroxi warriors to Ylisse as she can get, and... and, watching over us, I bet your comrades'll say, 'she did good.'"

"Do you think so?"

"I know so," and Lissa's fingers card through Cordelia's hair, gently undoing their knots.

"Thank you, Lady Lissa," Cordelia wipes her tears from her face, at last. "I'm... I'm sorry for burdening you like this, when I only intended to return your ribbons. Please, if there's anything at all I can do..."

"Just one thing," Lissa smiles, weakly, and lets go. "Or... two, depending on how you look at it."

"Ask of me a hundred things," Cordelia entreats, "And I will complain not."

"Then... keep the ribbons. Wear them into battle for me," she takes a deep breath. "And... please. None of that 'lady' stuff-- just call me Lissa."

Cordelia agrees.


	5. 18: and on the eyes // black sleep of night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> her siblings bear it more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count 100

Not even the princess is exempt from a nightwatch shift, those long hours between midnight and dawn. It is only fair, she thinks, to labor beside the other soldiers. But her head feels heavy, though her shift's end is far yet, and the westernmost horizon, black, black, their warm watchstation's fire... those things, too, bear a quiet lull.

"You look tired, Lissa," Cordelia's voice, hushed. "If you wish to nap a little... I won't tell."

"Maybe... just a little," Lissa yawns, and rubs her eyes.

And when she lays her head on Cordelia's lap, drifts into slumber-- she is magnificent.


	6. 17: when all night long // it pulls them down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bird in the hand is worth two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count 500

They fall like two birds struck with the same stone, the Exalt and the Captain. Phila, first, an arrow buried in her heart. And Emmeryn, second, with grief in hers.

Cordelia had not thought it possible, anymore-- for a woman to become an angel as she fell, pegasus feathers for a halo. She had not thought it possible, not after her knight-sisters had died beside her, hitting the ground in a mess of viscera and feathers whenever the enemy wyverns did not decide to eat them whole.

Lissa, too, had seen enough injury-- had healed enough wounds, had sewn enough sutures with her own hands to know that death, when it happens, is far from pretty. 

But when Phila falls, it is like she becomes an angel, midair, life fading from her almost slowly. Her body thuds upon the dais, but her soul, gone, lands more lightly than the feathers of her fallen steed.

Emmeryn, perhaps, becomes an angel before she even steps from the edge. And when she lands, in that corona of pegasus-feathers, no Ylissean can suppress the thought that she, too, shares Phila's wings.

No Ylissean, and least of all Lissa, who cries out, her arm stretched forth.

Neither have time to mourn, though the fallen are Lissa's sister by blood, Cordelia's sister in knighthood, and mentors both. Not then, when Plegian reinforcements threaten to block their retreat. It is all Cordelia can do for her fallen captain to ensure that Ylisse's remaining royalty escapes, safe.

Nay, only when Plegia's castle fades from the horizon, when they've found a secure enough spot to make camp-- only then is there time to speak.

"I feel heavy," Lissa whispers. "Like my legs are made of lead."

"I know," Cordelia swallows, the lump in her throat like stone. "I know."

"Why?" Lissa's voice cracks, shaking. "We still needed her... we still needed them both."

"Maybe," Cordelia chokes out, feeling terribly, terribly foolish. "Maybe... the angels needed them more."

"Do you still believe in those stories?" she says, and stays close to Cordelia's side.

"I'm not sure, anymore," Cordelia admits, and trembles, for she knows not if those ideals are as dead as she once believed.

She does not know why the princess chooses her, of all people, but she is grateful for it. Cordelia is in no position to turn down comfort, and Lissa's arms are warm, tight, wrapping around her waist in the hug she so desperately needs.

Her face, buried in hair-- soft, soft like feathers-- and Cordelia, at last, gives into the urge to sob, unable to refrain any longer. Lissa overtakes her with a whimper, and there, they hold each other, and simply cry.

They fall like two birds struck with the same stone, the Exalt and the Captain. And all night long, their sisters weep, for their hearts are heavy like rock: they sink. But, too, do those girls like anchors cling to each other, and within seas of tears too there can be solace.


	7. 1: Deathless Aphrodite of the spangled mind,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> war and love; goddesses exist for both

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [full poem here.](http://fsf-mod.dreamwidth.org/272.html) word count 1000

Versed, as always, in the nuances of Lissa's behavior, it is Maribelle who sees change in her first. They are subtle enough that even her own brother does not notice-- but Maribelle's friendship, devoted, hears that silent cry.

"Lissa, darling," she says, one afternoon over tea. "What troubles you? It wouldn't do for me to just _sit by_ while my closest friend frets herself to pieces."

"What? No, Maribelle, you've got it all wrong," Lissa smiles, but not so effortlessly as usual. "I'm not  worrying about anything, really... at least, I don't think I am."

"There's no use in hiding it from me, dearest," Maribelle, comforting, pats her hand. " _Something_ is troubling you... don't think I haven't caught you sighing when nobody else is looking. Perhaps you haven't realized it yet... but you don't seem quite your cheerful self as of late."

"I guess I've been distracted, thinking about a few things," Lissa shakes her head, trying to shrug it off. "But they're silly, and people won't take me very seriously if I let it bother me. Besides, I'm sure Chrom's worried about a lot of stuff, too, probably way more important than the stuff I'm worried about."

"Nonsense. If they are important enough to trouble you, then they are important enough to be heard," Maribelle scoffs. Less harshly, "Come, now. Tell me what's wrong... is the war exhausting you? Has the... Plegian _situation_ distressed you? Do you find the mess-hall fare unappetizing? Whatever it may be, know that I shall not rest until your worries are eased."

"Now that you mention all the other stuff, I _really_ feel like I'm worrying about something silly," Lissa pouts. "It's just... well, Maribelle, what did you think about Sumia's wedding?"

"What did I think..." Maribelle's brows furrow. "Sumia's wedding was several weeks ago, darling. You can't mean to say this has been troubling you ever since?"

"Sorry, Maribelle... forget I said that," Lissa rubs the back of her neck, visibly abashed.

"No, I daresay I won't," Maribelle straightens her posture. "You requested my thoughts, and I will give them. The wedding was splendid, of course... insofar as any wedding, mid-war, can be. I don't agree with her decision to marry in full armor... nor, for that matter, in marrying so quickly. Why, an appropriate courtship should be thrice that length!"

"So... you didn't approve of it?" Lissa hesitates. "The match?"

"Well, I never said that," Maribelle tosses her hair over her shoulder. "In spite of it all, I think she and Lady Robin are remarkably suited to each other. Sir Libra gave us a most heartfelt ceremony, and it _did_ possess everything expected of a wedding for a noblewoman of her status. And, well... Dame Sully and Miss Cordelia made rather dashing maids of honor, if I may say."

"... they did, didn't they," Lissa sighs, staring at her tea.

Maribelle purses her lips, studies her friend for a moment. Takes a measured guess: "You _have_ been spending a great deal of time around Miss Cordelia lately, haven't you?"

"Huh?" Lissa sputters, cheeks turning red. "I mean... I guess I have, more than usual. But! You don't have to worry that I'll forget about you, or any of that other stuff you said before. You're still my best friend, Maribelle!"

"Of course I am, darling," Maribelle shakes her head, smiling at last. "But if I may speak frankly... I suspect your affections towards our Miss Cordelia aren't exactly _friendly_ in nature, hm?"

"I mean, I don't really know," Lissa admits. "But the way I feel when I'm around her... it's different, you know?"

"Well," Maribelle pauses in hesitation. At last, decides, "I haven't exactly been ubiquitous with my own attentions. If you'll forgive the crude expression... Dame Sully possesses a barbarian's strength in a noblewoman's form! It's enough to make any woman require her hand-fan!"

Lissa giggles, "She's strong, isn't she?"

"Oh, _very_ ," Maribelle replies. "And it was very chivalrous of her to come to my rescue the battle previous. So you see, my dearest Lissa, you need not hesitate in speaking to me of such matters. You and I, after all, have both fallen victim to the wiles of those atrocious knights of Ylisse! Quite the predicament for noblewomen such as ourselves."

Lissa laughs, and Maribelle is secretly relieved. Her sense of humor is rare understood, and rarer yet appreciated.

"It's nice, I guess, to know you're okay with it," Lissa answers. "A ton of the nobles in court were really upset about Sumia's marriage..."

"I suppose they find distasteful a noblewoman marrying a girl without title," Maribelle tisked. "But I expect Lady Robin will be dubbed a General of Ylisse after dealing with _this_ ordeal. If not, then I'm afraid I'll have to smack your brother upside the head, and hope it improves his wits! As to Miss Cordelia... well. After Captain Phila..."

A pause, and the air hangs dense-- they both recall, suddenly, that they are at war.

"It's true, then?" Lissa sobers, "She meant for Cordelia to succeed her as Captain?"

"\Not immediately, at least," Maribelle sighs. "In perhaps ten years, after the eldest knights retired, the captainship may have been hers uncontested. But the knights listed before her all perished in the border siege or at the Plegian Courtyard, and... seventeen is _terribly_ young to be a captain. There was an argument in Ylisstol, as if such a thing were up for _political debate_."

Lissa thinks, quiet again. "There's this saying... that instead of dying, pegasus knights become angels when they fall."

"Christened by the feathers of their pegasi," Maribelle agrees, solemn. "Perhaps... perhaps we should say a prayer to them. Would you join me, Lissa?"

"Of course," Lissa sets aside her tea.

"Let's ask them to protect their sisters in knighthood." Maribelle adds, attempting to lighten the mood, "Perhaps, for us, they'll have advice on wooing the knightly sort."

But the air is heavy, weighted with the sound of sparring outside. Neither can bring themselves to laugh.


	8. 4: ...for those // i treat well are the ones who most of all // ...harm me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heartbreak comes of age

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i've accidentally started writing chronologically? oops.  
> word count 623

Chrom marries, that summer, with all the splendor afforded a king becoming a husband-- and o, how it stings.

To harbor such hopes, still, Cordelia knows it to be foolish. Her affections for him, too, she knows to be the result of a pre-teenaged crush, one that had captured a girl newly brought into the city, into the dazzling world of nobles and knights. A pre-teenaged girl who _read too many romance novels_ , she chides herself, and wonders if she perhaps ought to burn her copy of "How to Make Him Fall For You In A Fortnight."

She wears navy-blue to the wedding. To match the decor, she jokes to anyone who asks, for Frederick has predictably outfitted the Great Hall and Ballroom with colors complimenting his liege. Behind her back, nobles whisper that she is trying to make herself look more mature by wearing somber colors, as if that would help her win the title of Captain.

Neither excuse is true, she knows. Cordelia has dressed to match the groom, and shamefully pretends that the red, red rose upon his boutonniere is to match her own hair, red as a flame. And somber colors are funeral colors, too, and with three white feathers pinned to her breast, she can at last lay to rest the hopes of her heart atop Ylisse's highest balcony.

"Cordelia!" Lissa calls, just as she is about to unpin the feathers. The princess catches her breath, "What're you doing so far from the party? It took me forever to find you!"

"Lady Lissa?" surprise tinges Cordelia's voice. "I ought to ask of you the same... I'm sure you're sorely missed at the wedding festivities."

"You don't have to call me 'lady' or any of that stuff," Lissa shakes her head, her formalwear skirts rustling as she stands. "I just wanted to know if you were okay... since, you know..."

"You've noticed, then?" Cordelia sighs, deflating. "I had thought myself discreet in my unworthy affections, but I suppose the endeavor was a failure in the end."

"Well..." Lissa's answers, small and quiet. "It was a suspicion."

"How long have you," Cordelia falters, " _Suspected_?"

"Maybe since you played at my brother's coming-of-age?" Lissa offers, each word like a thorn in her tongue.

"... over two years, then," Cordelia buries her face in her hands, mortified. "Have I truly been so obvious? I wish someone had spoken sooner..."

"I don't think you were obvious, exactly," Lissa assures her. "I mean... my brother didn't notice."

Relief crosses her face, "You didn't tell him...?"

"No," a pause. Hesitantly, "Would you have wanted me to?"

"It's for the better that you didn't, I think," Cordelia replies, soft. "A foolish woman like me would ill suit a king. Or anyone else, for that matter."

"No," Lissa's voice in sudden protest. "Don't think less of yourself, Cordelia, please. Even if your time is not today, it'll be someday. Please... don't give up hope."

"You're right... I'm sorry for imposing on you so, Lissa," Cordelia smiles, if but weakly. "Now, I think... now I may end this childish silliness for good. It seems a sign from the gods..."

"What does?" and Lissa's heart, weak to her smile, beats in hope.

"I come of age, today," Cordelia replies, and laughs behind her formalwear sleeve. "I suppose I should consider it a sign that I must grow up... though I don't feel like much of an adult, especially now. Perhaps it's good that everyone else has forgotten, with the wedding at hand."

"Oh, it is? Happy birthday, then," Lissa smiles back, but briars constrict around her heart, and she withdraws her fingers from the gift-box in her pocket.

The time is not today, she thinks, and o, how it stings.


	9. 19: Moon has set // and Pleiades: middle // night, the hour goes by, // alone I lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rally movement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pleiades are seven sisters turned stars, and so i thought perhaps the fire emblem version might be another sort of archetypical sister. word count 400

After the war, there are not enough pegasus knights remaining to form their own division.

The village militias are in tatters, and so too have the surviving pegasus knights gone home to repair and mourn. Only Cordelia and Sumia remain in Ylisse's national Pegasus Knights, a section that wholly belongs to the Shepherds now.

But in the barracks, where once a hundred women quartered, it is Cordelia alone. Sumia, as she rightfully should, will take her rest in Lady Robin's quarters as soon as they return from their honeymoon, long-overdue. It is lonely, Cordelia thinks, when the Pegasus Knights of Ylisse number one woman in total, and she is Captain over nothing, and nobody, save for herself.

Perhaps, someday, the pegasus knights will begin recruiting again. Someday, she thinks, and leaves the barracks as they are, the hundred washbasins lined up in a row, the hundred closets emptied of their belongings by mourning family.

The beds begin to gather dust.

Cordelia finds she cannot sleep, anymore, when she has grown so used to the sounds of her sister-knights, turning in the night. Those hours are the loneliest, the most strikingly lonely, and when those nights are clear, she watches the stars, the clusters of pegasus knights from long ago immortalized in legend. Palla, Catria, Est. The Knight-Queen Caeda. When those sisters in knighthood fade over the horizon, Cordelia could weep, for even knight-sisters who are stars offer enough of that camaraderie she so desperately, desperately misses.

And there, curled up in blankets atop the barracks' roof, some nights she cries. But some nights, she remembers a girl with sunshine for hair, and smiling lips, and a sister who is gone now. At times, she takes solace in Lissa's strength. Derives her own willpower from it.

She would die for Princess Lissa, she sighs, and begins to understand the one hundred knight-sisters who already have. Perhaps, even... perhaps she begins to understand Lissa's own sister and her fall, if but slightly.

That radiance, she thinks, must be protected. The softness of her face, the mud smeared upon her skirts, her laughter. All of it. And Cordelia, remembering how warm her arms felt around her waist, how softly Lissa has ever dried her tears, and how they have wept together, at times--

Cordelia loves her a little more each lonely night, starts to fall in love with the very idea of her.


	10. 6: stars around the beautiful moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lightened soles and souls alike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [full poem here.](http://fsf-mod.dreamwidth.org/1765.html) word count 650

The night after Lucina is born, Lissa entreats her, "Dance with me."

"You must be exhausted, Lady Lissa," Cordelia replies, and her legs, too, ache-- she has carried water up the stairs these past six hours. "You've been overseeing the birth since the morning; I'm sure you must be exhausted."

"I am, but hey, I'm an aunt, now!" Lissa beams up at her, genuinely delighted in spite of her tiredness. "I feel like celebrating. Dance with me, Cordelia?"

"I'd like to," Cordelia smiles back, and her weariness seems unimportant when faced with Lissa's joy. Then, realizing, "Ah... but we have no music."

"It's okay," and Lissa's hands, excited, pull her into the courtyard. "There's a full moon tonight!"

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Cordelia glances up, perplexed, and o, the moon is bright tonight, playing upon Lissa's clothes like a child.

"I don't know if you've heard the story," Lissa laughs, and twirls around a spire of hollyhocks. "But my nursemaid used to tell me of a faraway land, where a dragon plucks the moonbeams like harp-strings. She said that on nights of the full moon, when he plays his song, people dream about their true loves."

"It's been many years since, but I remember the tale," a grin ebbs upon Cordelia's features, and she begins to undo her shoes. "I haven't heard that one since I was very small, though. It's the one about the princess, and the king on horseback..."

"My nursemaid used to say he rode a pegasus," Lissa giggles, the image in her mind wholly jarring. "I think she was trying to make it more entertaining."

"Perhaps," Cordelia steps barefoot into the grass. It scratches; it tickles.  "How would you like me to dance with you, Lady Lissa?"

"Just Lissa, now, please," she takes Cordelia's hands, and like this, she seems to be the sun and moon and stars herself. "I guess, just dance however you want... I think we'll find a rhythm, somehow."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have removed my shoes," Cordelia shakes her head, fondly exasperated, but dances regardless, twirling Lissa out and pulling her in once more.

Forget-me-nots caress their ankles. Their feet move to a certain sway, and when Cordelia wears no shoes but Lissa does, they are nearly the same height. It's something like half a waltz step, and twirls that seem to last until they are both dizzy, and hands on wrists, then forearms, then waists.

"You can hear the music, too, can't you?" Lissa's cheek brushes Cordelia's as they ease upon their turns, starting to become out of breath.

"How do you mean?" Cordelia replies, and wonders when they drew in so close.

"I was thinking about the moonbeams, and the dragon's harp," Lissa inhales, and her forehead rests in the crook of Cordelia's neck for a moment. "I was thinking... you played like that, on Chrom's birthday. At the ceremony."

Cordelia's breath stops in her throat. Uncertain as to her meaning, "I'm afraid I don't understand... do I play like a dragon?"

"No," and Lissa's chuckle against her skin is exhilarating. "You play like you're calling out to true love. Like in a dream. That's why everyone was so enchanted by it, I think."

Cordelia thinks for a moment, and recalls how she felt, how she thought that perhaps, if she played well enough, she would catch the eye of Prince Chrom himself, and perhaps he would later ask her to dance. But, she reminds herself, Chrom is a king, now, and already wed to another. The thought does not sting, as it once did, and so, softly, she whispers back.

"I might have been, back then," Cordelia admits, quiet. "But I know now that love was not true."

Their dancing slows to a sway, and Lissa's heartbeat is the rhythm.

"I think," Lissa says, "True love always finds a way."

Cordelia's heart flutters, and that is the tune.


	11. 7: you burn me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all that's left of summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count 750

The summer after Lucina is born seems to burn away in its own warmth, gone too quickly in Cordelia's mind. All Ylisstol seems too enamored with the newborn heiress to offer a second thought to the political drama of Cordelia's (redundant) captaincy, too occupied to particularly scrutinize Princess Lissa and her less-than-ladylike pastimes.

Lissa gets away with more muddied hemlines than she ever has before, and Cordelia... Cordelia is afforded the chance to help Lissa muddy them, tromping through the meadows and woods on Ylisstol's outskirts, catching frogs upon the fringes of lakes and swamps, assisting her as she delivers remedies to the citizens of Ylisse. It seems, that summer, Cordelia braids more flower crowns than she ever has in her entire life before.

The Pegasus Knights have been tasked to protect the Ladies of House Ylisse for nigh a millennia, and Cordelia is no exception. _But o_ , she thinks, _what a glorious task it is_ , and that summer in Lady Lissa's company is the most wonderful of all. 

All summers, however, someday end-- General Raimi comes, that first day of autumn, and too a Feroxi escort to ensure the notice arrives. So Lon'qu says, informing Lissa while she watches Cordelia clean the mud from her armor.

"Flavia asked that you hear her message," he says, cautiously maintaining his distance. "All members of House Ylisse. I... would escort the princess to the meeting room. If that pleases you."

"It is the duty and honor of a pegasus knight to protect her lady," Cordelia moves to stand, though there is mud on her hands, her workclothes-- and, yes, still upon her armor.

"It's okay, Cordelia," Lissa rubs the back of her neck, smiles sheepishly. "You can stay and wash... it's sort of my fault you ended up in the swamps to begin with. Besides! Nothing's going to happen to me... the meeting room isn't far from the barracks, and Lon'qu's super-strong anyways. I mean, have you seen the biceps on that guy?"

(Lon'qu can offer no reply to that. He gives a mortified noise from the doorway.)

Cordelia knows, too, it would be horribly improper to appear in court donning overalls and muddied armor. She has not forgotten the criticisms of her captaincy-- that she is too young, that she will not be responsible enough-- and knows what she can and cannot afford.

"Very well, Lady Lissa," she sighs, and concedes. She settles for scrubbing at a particularly stubborn corner of her uniform.

"You can take a bath in my quarters when you're done," Lissa offers, for her bathtub is thrice the size of a soldier's. "The meeting'll be a while, probably, so I'll ask someone to fill it for you on my way over!"

"You are too generous, milady," Cordelia manages only a weak smile, but does not reject the offer. She waves as Lissa hastens away with the Feroxian envoy, and attempts to pay closer attention to her cleaning.

But her bosom feels aflame, and o, what an ugly, horrible feeling it is. Cordelia knows it well, has known it from her foolish days of pining after the Prince of Ylisse. She had thought herself beyond it, by now, but envy roars in her heart once more, and what she wouldn't give to be the one who leads Lissa away, around the curve of the doors.

 _Frivolous, silly, ridiculous_ , Cordelia admonishes herself, but even then she cannot shake from her mind the thought of Lissa's eyes upon Sir Lon'qu's form. _Of course he seems imposing to a woman as petite as Lissa_ , she argues to herself, _and whose figure should I expect her gaze to alight on? ... mine?_

She writes it off as the product of too many romance novels and scrubs her armor until her cleaning-bristles are fit to ignite from her fervor. Then, she bathes in Lissa's quarters, though she knows well that it is improper for a knight. _Let me claim each favor she offers_ , Cordelia thinks, and submerges herself in scalding water.

Not even the castle staff notices her enter or leave, and for days afterwards, her hair smells like Lissa's shampoo. The risk is well worth the reward, for Cordelia feels closer to her, she thinks, and inhales again. Her split-ends fray, without the aid of her usual conditioners, but she cannot bring herself to wash this tiny bit of Lissa from her hair.

What a comfort is that scent to Cordelia-- she wonders if it is foolish, how much it makes her burn.


	12. 9: you came and I was crazy for you // and you cooled my mind that burned with longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not seasick but lovesick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count 834

Women like Cordelia are unfit for women like Lissa-- she, with her melancholy longings and horrible, bitter neediness, and the princess, who glitters like the sun, who does not deserve to be cursed with such affections. Cordelia believes it, with all of her heart. She has wept over it, in days past.

But now, on the warpath once more, it drives Cordelia, pushes her to strive towards a greater perfection so that perhaps she may be worthy someday. However her lance may sing through the air, however thoroughly she may defend Lissa from their foes, she is far, far from perfect yet.

She knows that it is irrational to expect such a thing; Cordelia is no madwoman. It is her heart, though, which entreats her-- for noble hearts deserve protection, and Lissa's is the noblest of all. A flawless defense is the very least Cordelia ought to offer.

Practicing her lance forms while on guard, Cordelia's careful eyes glance circumspect. Though it would be near impossible for Walhart's navy to sneak up to them here on the open seas, neither can they afford to let their guard down. Cordelia herself, embarrassingly, does not yet have her sea legs... and her aim continues to miss the center of her target by up to an entire inch. The practice, she tells herself, is necessary.

Suddenly-- a sharp knock on the nearest cabin wall. Cordelia nearly drops her practice-lance into the ocean, but hurriedly recovers it.

"Lady Lissa!" she exclaims. "What are you doing awake so late?"

Lissa rubs her eyes, then speaks. "I should be asking you the same question... not just tonight, but yesterday, and the day before that. You've been practicing and keeping guard at weird hours, so I'm worried about you."

"I appreciate your concern, milady," Cordelia exhales, attempts to find calm. "But you need not trouble yourself. I'll be all right. I must not falter now... I would do all this, and more."

"Have you slept?" Lissa replies, concern furrowing her brow. She steps closer, lays a cool hand on Cordelia's brow, "I think you might be running a fever."

"I might be a bit red from the exertion of my practice... I am not so easily daunted by the sea air, Lady Lissa. It is far colder at flying altitudes," Cordelia shies from that touch, worried that her flush and quickened heartbeat might be revealed by such proximity.

"If you're sure," Lissa visibly deflates. "But... please, Cordelia, try to sleep a little. Even if you don't get cold easily, not sleeping enough can make you sick."

Such a disheartened expression belongs not on Lissa's face. Cordelia takes her hand in one of her own, "I am sorry, milady... I shall endeavor to sleep better, though I do not know if I can promise to."

"Does sleeping on a boat make you seasick?" Lissa squeezes her hand, there, just minutely. "Almost a third of our army's downed just by seasickness alone...  but Libra brought herbs, and Tharja developed an anti-seasickness hex, and I even heard Gregor has this one trick with smelling salts!"

"I am afraid my affliction has naught to do with the body," Cordelia confesses. "My mind will not let me rest. When I think of all I can still yet do to perfect myself, and protect what really matters... it seems impossible for me to remain still."

"Protect what really matters, huh..." Lissa sighs. "Well, _you_ matter a lot to me, Cordelia, and seeing you this way... I'm worried that you're going to work yourself to death, you know? It feels like you've been practicing nonstop since the war started... does being good at fighting matter to you this much?"

"Nothing could be further from the truth,"  Cordelia insists. Then, hesitantly, "What really matters... to me, that's the people I love the most. The ones whom I would deeply mourn if they were to die in battle. Those I... ache to be closer to. Who I must protect, even at the cost of my own life."

"You mean," ventures Lissa, though it pains her. "You mean... people like my brother?"

"No," Cordelia chokes out, and grips Lissa's hands tighter. "I mean, like you."

"Oh, Cordelia," Lissa whispers, soft, aching. And then, with no words eloquent enough, she leans up and kisses her.

It is gentle, close-mouthed, sweet-- and so warm, so brilliantly warm that it heats Cordelia to her toes. Her body had somehow forgotten warmth altogether, lost to the sea air, but Lissa's lips on hers so tenderly guide her to its remembrance. Cordelia finds herself unable to do much but kiss back, with all of her heart, and Lissa's arms wrap lovingly about her waist in reply.

Her thoughts, at last, come to a standstill.

The first that returns to her mind: "Lissa... I'm afraid I've fallen in love with you."

"Don't be afraid," Lissa whispers back, giggles. "I love you, too."

And not even the chill of night, Cordelia thinks, can quell this warmth in her.


	13. 12: may you sleep on the breast of your delicate friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hear her heart beating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count 1000

They have been in Valm, now, this past half-year, and a courtship mid-war is far from what Lissa had assumed it might be.

(And within the Shepherds, none but Chrom have even the inkling of what courtship in peace is like-- go figure.)

In lieu of late-night conversations on watch, she endures her brother's teasing and Frederick arranging the schedules so they do not meet, then, unchaperoned. Where she thought, perhaps, they might bandage each others' minor wounds, Lissa finds herself fretting all battle about whether Cordelia might have sustained something _lethal_. Even being reassigned to each others' tents, when the housing supply grows thin...

"Never!" Frederick would harrumph. "If I were unable to provide a Princess of Ylisse with a mote of privacy, I will have failed in my endeavor as a knight..."

"But I'm volunteering!" Lissa protests in reply. "You let Chrom share a tent!"

"Your brother Lord Chrom is appropriately _married_ ," Frederick straightens his back. "And though you and Captain Cordelia are betrothed, it is considered highly inappropriate for you to cohabitate at this stage. The statement for courtship ruling indicates it is, in most cases, permitted only after the eighth exchange of gifts or poetry, excluding the initial engagement ring. To do so any sooner would be _exceedingly_ improper."

Lissa rolls her eyes, then, and must cede, lest she suffer another lecture. She admits-- it hasn't _all_ been bad, and she has enjoyed breaks in the midst of long marches, astride Cordelia's mount and resting between her fiancée's arms, company trips into town where they sneak off and purchase accessories or treats for each other. Still, she desires moments alone, truly alone with her... a rare thing, when the Shepherds are at war.

And so, one eve, it is to Lissa's surprise that she finds Cordelia in her tent, her armor and lances and other tools of war missing from her person. She holds a harp atop her lap, far smaller and of cheaper make than the one she plays in Ylisstol.

"Cordelia!" Lissa smiles, her beam as bright as the sun. "I thought Frederick said you weren't allowed in here..."

"Ah... technically speaking, I'm not," Cordelia admits, offering an embarrassed smile. "But Frederick understands a knight's vow as well as I do... the only question is whether you still wish for this."

"Um..." Lissa hesitates. Tries to remember. "Wish for what?"

"It's all right if you've forgotten... it has been nearly four years since, after all," Cordelia assures. Softly, "Do you recall when Lord Chrom came of age, and I played for the ceremony? It is unfortunate we couldn't be in Ylisstol for today, but I still haven't forgotten..."

"That's right... I asked you if you would play for me when I turned eighteen!" Lissa exclaims. Sheepishly, "I guess I forgot today was my birthday... with the war going on, and everything."

"Many things are forgotten in the course of war," Cordelia shakes her head, sighs. "Including some of the lines to that song. I'm afraid you'll have to hear me muddle through with some sheet music. But I _did_  promise that if you wished it, on your eighteenth birthday..."

"You'll play for me?" Lissa finishes. She smiles brighter than ever, "In my whole life... I don't think I've ever wanted anything more."

Cordelia looks at her, soft, and in the absence of words, begins to play.

And, o, how Cordelia's fingers tremble, deft in their plucking but delicate, so delicate yet. Her eyes flicker to the notes but barely before abandoning them altogether-- and this song, its mistakes and all, this song is just for Lissa and none other. Her chords ache with tenderness, with a longing to be close. Here, alone in Lissa's tent, she can see Cordelia's chest rise with each breathless allegro, catching upon the slower harmonies. Her forgotten lines, improvised there, become more beautiful than their original writing.

Parts of the cadenza must be transposed an octave, due to the differently sized harp, and the cheaply-made strings, at times, buzz unpleasantly, but Cordelia _feels_ , and making music like this for Lissa, and Lissa alone, she could be playing her own heartstrings in lieu of the harp, and nobody would know. _I adore you_ , she thinks, and hopes her fingers make it known.

It is the type of song that does not merely evoke a reverie. Nay, Lissa thinks-- if true love itself has a sound, then this is it, and oh how her heart dances.

They are both sorry when the song ends-- but Cordelia's fingers, in truth, are dreadfully out of practice, and her calluses have softened over the years. And so, she finishes perhaps a bit quickly, for her fingertips begin to blister.

"That was beautiful," Lissa whispers, both hands clasped over her heart.

The blisters are worth it, Cordelia thinks. "I am glad."

"You could probably entrance an army with music like that," her voice quivers, and she feels she might weep for all of the things she felt in that song.

"I don't think I'm quite that good," Cordelia sets the harp aside. "And... I only wish to please you with this. If this song has done its job sufficiently..."

"It has!" Lissa cries, and throws herself into Cordelia's arms. She sobs into her bosom, "Cordelia... I love you, Cordelia. I'm so, so happy...!"

"Lissa..." Cordelia wraps her arms around her, gently pats her back until she is calm. If a tear or two slips from Cordelia's own eyes, she does not mention it, but croaks out instead, "Happy birthday."

"I think this one," Lissa sniffles, "Is the best one yet."

"Oh, Lissa," Cordelia sighs, and holds her close. Their heartbeats, then, side-by-side-- they sing in harmony, and though she is exhausted, Cordelia feels like she could dance.

She hugs Lissa to her closer, instead, and finds that it feels just the same.

"Won't you stay the night?" Lissa entreats, softly.

And though she knows Frederick will be frenzied come morning, Cordelia says, "All right."


	14. 10: not one girl I think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blanket the dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [full poem here.](http://fsf-mod.dreamwidth.org/2303.html) word count 100

Cordelia's first thought, that morning, is not of the rumor that shall surely rise from their unmarried bedshare, nor of Sir Frederick, who shall certainly scold her.

(They have committed no fault-- Cordelia's gown garbs her well, and Lissa lays, in nightclothes, curled into her side.)

That morning, she cares only for the sun, how it spills across Lissa's shoulders long before light filters through the tent. None but she shall learn of this secret, second sun, this one contained within a girl asleep: her soft snores, her slumber-softened face.

She is magnificent, Cordelia thinks, and kisses her cheek, chaste.


	15. 3: ... among mortal women, know this // ... from every care // ... you could release me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not even logistics stand a chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count 950

In some universes, Grima takes to the skies, and, they cling to each others' sides. At times, in hope, or affection; at others, in despair.

But the sun never rises, the morning after Grima comes, and it is there in that eternal night where panic rises across Ylisse's citizens and heroes alike. Terrified and honest citizens of Ylisse flee to the castle, those days, while brigands and thieves lay waste to their abandoned homes. Ylisstol is in flames before Grima even touches it.

The army stops there on the way to Mount Prism, where they hope Chrom may complete the Ritual of Awakening. It is the nearest city, Robin says, that is allied still with the Ylisseans. She alights Sumia's mount, her arms around her wife's waist, and sets about scavenging whichever supplies she can from the burning city below. Sully, Stahl, and Frederick do their best to keep the brigands from pursuing on foot; it is Cordelia who leads the aerial forces in their scavengers' defense. Cherche holds second-in-command, and though she is no pegasus knight, she and her wyvern are too sky-sisters to Cordelia.

But rations are scarce, even inside the castle, and Lissa cannot bear to steal food from the mouths of her people even in order to feed their army. The wildlife has fled, not even a pigeon to be seen in Ylisstol, and the livestock have along ago been slaughtered and turned into dried or salted meat; there is nothing with which to feed them. The granaries have been burned or looted, and nearly all the wheat is inedible.

"We'll make do," Robin announces one morning, though she too cannot account for uncertainty. "I arranged for an elite squadron of ten to head into the woods... a two days' hunting and foraging expedition. Panne is their leader. If they can find... perhaps a bear, or some deer... the people of Ylisstol will eat well, tomorrow, and we'll have enough rations to make it to Mount Prism and back."

"And when we arrive here again?" Chrom frowns. "Will there be food enough for Ylisse, and all of us, too?"

"We can't send all of our forces up the mountain," Robin acknowledges. "Nothing... nothing can grow, when there isn't any sun left. So we'll have the rest of our troops forage what they can from the abandoned countryside towns."

"I guess we just have to hope we defeat Grima, before that supply runs out," Lissa sighs, and hates that all she can do for her people is make sure they're in good health. The castle ballroom has become a makeshift infirmary, treating brigand-inflicted injuries and illnesses. They only have so many staves, though, and they will need many more in the battles ahead. She worries that, soon, she won't even be able to help them that much.

"Lord Chrom, General Robin!" an exclamation, Cordelia's red, red hair fluttering into their war-room. "I come bearing urgent news from the foraging party. They have slain two deer and found promising signs of a bear; they were tracking it when I left."

"That's better than I'd hoped," Robin shakes her head, smiling brightly. "Any news on their return?"

"Aye. Cherche intends to bring back the deer tonight; Minerva can carry their weight. Panne has assigned Tharja and I as her escort," Cordelia reports. "If we are successful in hunting the bear, we'll make a second carry on the morn. Our foraging team will depart with us on land, and we'll be able to make Ylisstol by late afternoon, if we are uninterrupted."

"Chrom, can we arrange for a land guard?" Robin questions.

"I'll see what we can do," and, heartened, they excuse themselves.

"And, for you, Lady Lissa," Cordelia smiles at her, softening her military stance. "I did my best to collect as many herbs as I could recall. I hope they'll help you in the infirmary."

"Cordelia," Lissa beams, accepting the package she bears. She unties it, "Yes! These'll help a ton. That one's good for swelling, and this one's good for stomach problems..."

"I am relieved to hear that," Cordelia answers, gently touching the back of her hand. They both recall how very long it's been since they were last alone like this.

"We'll have to fight Grima soon, won't we?" Lissa whispers.

"We shall. Ylisse cannot survive like this forever..." Cordelia sighs, her fingers gently petting Lissa's wrist.

"Does it worry you?" Lissa answers. She takes Cordelia's hand, squeezes it tight.

"It worries everyone, I think," Cordelia shakes her head. Squeezes back. "The sun vanishing for weeks at a time... such things would frighten anybody."

Lissa smiles comfortingly, "I think, in the end... we'll beat him. You and me, and the rest of the Shepherds. If we believe that, with all of our hearts, nothing can stop us!"

Cordelia's eyes crinkle at the corners, ""Somehow... when I am with you, my worries feel less heavy."

"I feel like that, sometimes, too," Lissa brightens, laughing a little. "You know, just before you showed up, I was worrying about the infirmary supplies... and now, here you are, with all of the herbs I need the most! Just like a hero."

"That reminds me, Lissa," Cordelia, abruptly, withdraws a ravel of bark from her belt. "I think this is balmwood... there was an outcropping of it against a cliffside. Most of it had died and begun to mold, but I can retrieve more when I return, if you wish."

"Just like a hero," Lissa repeats, and the wonder of it all shines in her eyes. She kisses her, grateful, and thanks the gods for this miracle.

Even if only for this universe-- there are enough staves, in the next battle.


	16. 11: I simply want to be dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apocalypso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [full poem here.](http://fsf-mod.dreamwidth.org/2422.html) word count 750

In some universes, they do not live to see the next day. The darkness of war overtakes them; Lissa with her smiles, as bright as the sun, and Cordelia, hair as red as dawn. Some universes, when they do battle against Grima, the Shepherds are all killed in one fell swoop, scarcely a match for the god of destruction. Those universes, they burn away in each others' arms, take comfort from that last moment of safety.

Those universes are the merciful ones.

In other worlds and timelines past, Cordelia whispers to her love, and holds her close, "The knights ride tomorrow."

And Lissa, the last of her siblings, wears the crown of the Exalt. She swallows, "I know."

(They ride, because Lissa commands it so.)

"My Exalt..." Cordelia, soft, kisses her hand. "Lissa."

"I don't want you to go," she finds herself saying against her will. "I've changed my mind. Stay, Cordelia. We'll hold the border of Ylisstol some other way."

"Are you speaking to me as Lady Lissa, the Exalt of Ylisse," Cordelia asks, "Or... just Lissa, my wife?"

"Can't they be the same?" Lissa sobs, and tightens her fingers.

"I am sorry, Lissa," Cordelia replies. The Captain of the Pegasus Knights speaks next, instead, "Neither of us can allow our feelings to cloud our judgement... you know as well as I, milady, that the barricades will only hold so long. As of now, the Risen army stands only half a day's march from the Ylissean gates... every salvageable piece of wood or stone has been put to use already. If you are reconsidering your stance, Your Grace... please, speak now."

"I... for the sake of the Ylissean people, I can't reconsider," Lissa trembles, more the Exalt than she truly feels. "There's no other choice... if we can make them retreat for even one day, we'll fix the barricades and stand a chance the next time they attack. We can't afford it, if they get inside the city and destroy the last of our supplies..."

"Oh, Lissa," Cordelia begins to weep. "Know that I hate to leave your side. But I swear I shall protect you... I'll protect you, and all the citizens of Ylisse as Captain Phila once did. And I will fight, Lissa, but I would defend you with my life."

"No," Lissa pleads, and how heartwrenching her sob can be! "You can't die!"

"I shall endeavor not to, but it is the risk of all who enter battle," Cordelia sniffles, and wipes a tear from Lissa's cheek, "Cry not, my love... but think on me, tomorrow, and pray."

"I'll think on you," Lissa promises. "I'll think on you and the flower-crowns you'd give me, when I was young. I'll think on you, and the time we danced after Lucina was born. I'll think on you, Cordelia, and I'll pray with all my heart!"

"Then you will do me the happiest honor I could ask for, Lissa. The time is close... I must go," Cordelia sighs, and kisses her. "To protect what matters most."

"The people you love," Lissa whispers, and kisses back.

"You, and Severa, and little Owain," she agrees, and draws her hands away with greatest reluctance.

Cordelia leaves, and does not return home again. When the battle ends, it is Sully who comes in her place, and lays before the Exalt a lonely white feather.

"There's this saying..." the knight says, uncharacteristically quiet. "That instead of dying, pegasus knights become angels when they fall."

"Christened by the feathers of their pegasi," and Lissa stares, heartbroken, at that piece of Cordelia's wing.

 _I simply want to be dead_ , Lissa thinks in those worlds, and though she must stay strong for her children and her people both, her heart aches with the thought: _it's my fault she's gone_.

It is her command that stations Cordelia at the border, after all, her orders that eventually kill the Pegasus Knights, three dozen strong. _Her_ command, neither peaceful like Emmeryn's had been, nor decisive, like Chrom's. All she can do, now, is pray, and do her best to heal their soldiers, and hope the children of Shepherds live to see their eighteenth birthdays.

Severa and Owain, and on rare occasions, Lucina-- they sometimes speak to her, in those times, but Lissa must yet strain to hear. Those worlds without Cordelia grow quieter, day by day, devoid of the harpsong Lissa so loves.

And in those worlds, when arrows thud at last into Lissa's chest-- everything, finally, comes to silence.


	17. 16: someone will remember us // I say // even in another time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sacrifice and devotion are hereditary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word count 862

There are timelines where they're saved from their doom by the children they sought to save. In those timelines, they hear their children tell them of how they lived, how they died in worlds that perhaps might never be.

"What kind of mother was I to you, Severa?" Lissa asks, turning her face to the side curiously. It is a strange feeling, indeed, to ask a question like this at her age. She's actually pretty sure that Severa is _older_ than her, at this point.

"Owain and I don't call you 'mother'... you're 'mom' to us, firstly," Severa corrects her, visibly upset. "It'd get confusing if we called both of our moms 'mother,' right?"

"Oh, that's true! I guess it might," Lissa giggles, laughing into her sleeve. "All right... what kind of _mom_ was I to you, then?"

"Just don't forget it again, okay?" Severa harrumphs, clearly unused to this young version of Lissa. "You're really busy, you know... running around and healing people, and organizing relief efforts or rations transports. All the typical 'hope of Ylisse' stuff. I don't think Lucina's going to tell you, so I might as well mention it first. After... after Uncle Chrom dies, you're the Exalt of Ylisse."

"Really?" surprise crosses Lissa's face. She seems apprehensive, "I can't imagine myself as an Exalt at all... I thought Lucina was in charge, in your future. That's usually how the succession line goes... I think?"

"She was supposed to be, but gawds, what kind of person trusts an eight-year-old with the throne during a war?" Severa snorts. "Anyways, I guess I should be grateful for you... even though you were busy with all the Exalt stuff, you always made time for me and Owain, every day up until you died. So... thanks, I guess."

"Future me sounds amazing!" Lissa beams. "I can't wait to grow up and be like her..."

"Don't you dare!" Severa, abruptly, clasps her hands. "Don't you dare grow up to be like the other you... don't you dare sacrifice yourself, or anything stupid like that! Just be my mom... no matter what timeline you're from."

"Is that how it happens, then?" Lissa deflates, and squeezes her daughter's hands. "Sorry for upsetting you, Severa... I promise I won't die on you!"

"It's not just me you should be promising that to," Severa huffs. "Owain's the one who had to watch you die, taking the blow for him... he's still scared of arrows. Did you know that? He used to just freeze up when he saw one pointed at him, in the first few months after you... left us..."

"Oh, Severa..." Lissa fumbles for a kerchief, wipes away her daughter's tears. "I'm super sorry that future me left you... I know she didn't mean to. But... I know she wouldn't regret saving your brother, either..."

"Forget about it," Severa sniffles. "That future isn't going to happen anymore. What matters is that we're here, now, and I'm not going to let you die... not on my watch!"

Lissa wraps her arms around her, this woman who is yet unborn, and just lets her sob into her sleeves, stroking her hair until she quiets. And, for once, tacit-- she notices that Severa's hair, sunshine-blonde, is done up in pigtails just like Lissa's own. She does not mention it, but wonders, silently, if that is a memento of her as well.

And somewhere, perhaps on the opposite side of camp, it is Cordelia's turn to ask: "What kind of mother was I to you, Owain?"

"You, o Captain Cordelia, thirty-fourth Captain of the Pegasus Knights of Ylisse," Owain barks out a laugh, brief. "You are known to all of your citizens as the Queen of the Skies, the flow of your crimson hair a victory banner for all! In taverns and infirmaries alike, the Ylisseans tell tales of your grandest feats of bravery, your most enthralling battles... even when your knights emerge in defeat, there is always a tale of a daring rescue you pulled off, or somesuch other stuff of fame."

Taken aback, Cordelia can only say, "Goodness... am I such a legend?"

"Aye, a legend," Owain, here, strikes a dramatic pose. "But even more than her prowess in battle, Captain Cordelia is famed for her eternal devotion to Lady Lissa, the princess with the kindest heart and the brightest smile in all the realms! She is the beacon of hope for all Ylisse, and you-- her famed protector! Tales of your romance, and of the thousand trials you endured to win her hand... they have replaced the tales of old as bedtime stories for toddling babes. I tried writing a ballad about it; my friend Brady added the tune. Shall I sing you the first few verses?"

"Ah, no, perhaps at a later time... it certainly sounds like I become a very impressive woman," Cordelia flushes from the flattery, and wonders if she will ever be so great. Then, realizing, "But... you still haven't answered. What kind of _mother_ was I, in your childhood?"

"You and mom," Owain says, simply. "You were my heroes."

Cordelia, too, hugs her son, and in those universes, their family will rejoice.


	18. 13: here now // tender Graces // and Muses with beautiful hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lift your voice in song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school idol festival au/crossover, because putting "muses" in a prompt is basically free reign for school idols. PEG♠'S, naturally, is pronounced like "pegasus." word count 1000

There are universes where Cordelia, with deft-fingered hands, plays piano in lieu of the harp. Universes where war comes to Lissa's kingdom in a different form, and she dances instead of learning staves.

In those worlds, battles are wrought with weapons in the form of computers, entry-forms as vulneraries. The battlefield is a stage, there, and they must fight the most difficult battle of all...

"The Love Live!" Lissa proclaims, gesturing furiously to the flyer. "The final week until preliminaries... and we're so, so close to having enough applicants to keep the school open! Emm says that the board won't give in until we have forty of them... we're over halfway there."

"Chairwoman Emmeryn said that?" Cordelia looks surprised. "I'm grateful, but... don't you think it's strange, for a chairwoman to reveal so specific a thing to a student...?"

"Well..." Lissa hesitates. "Maybe? A little? But Emm wouldn't settle for something vague like 'a class of students,' because of what happened two years ago..."

Cordelia sighs, disheartened. "Fifteen applicants, the same size as our class. Sumia and Cherche and I... that was all we could get, when we first formed PEG♠'S. And then, when we learned they meant classroom size  _after_ the merger with Ylisse Boys' High...  _twenty_. We were so close."

"It isn't so bad that Ylisse High is co-ed now," Cherche comforts, stitching away at their newest costumes. "It _would_ be unfortunate if we merge with Plegia High, however... I hear their plans are to demolish the entire campus, even the boarding dorms."

"I don't think it would be _completely_ terrible," Sumia sighs, "Plegia's School Idols, Grimmleal... they're like a dream."

"You should have your vision checked, darling," Maribelle rebuffs. "Even their _school uniform_ is nightmarish... why, I've never seen so much violet and black in my life!"

"Don't know what it looks like to you... but all I'm seein' is that Sumia's got a crush on the Grimmleal leader," Sully waggles her brows. "Unless that poster of Robin Iglesia in your dorm is--"

"Well," Miriel stands from her perpetual perch at the room's computer. The other nine go silent-- it is rare for Miriel to speak, and even rarer for her to request their attention.

She does not sing, nor dance, nor perform-- merely films PVs, edits videos. But Miriel keeps track of data, there in that clubroom, and practically manages the entire club, handling logistics so idols can shine unhindered by paperwork. For her to bring something to their attention is a major occurrence.

"W-what...?" Olivia stutters.

"It would appear that the... Grimmleal... have instigated a flagrant attack on PEG♠'S specifically," Miriel pushed up her glasses. "In their latest PV... they've covered one of your songs."

"Fie, 'tis a cruel trap they set indeed," Say'ri frowns. "We cannot protest, lest they claim their mimicry is out of admiration alone... 'twould seem unkind, and many would sympathize with Grimmleal. Our popularity would fall as easily as leaves in autumn."

"Not even beasts engage in such  _cowardly_  conduct," Panne stands, immediately enraged. "Let us watch this trap of theirs!"

Miriel fullscreens the video. The beat picks up, and _everyone_ notices the quickened tempo, the electric guitar and thunderous bass that Grimmleal is best known for, less of a cover and more of a remix. Tharja's sultry voice as she harmonizes, the sway of Aversa's hips, Robin's sly, sweet winking at just the right parts... they are a marvel, a paragon of school idols everywhere.

The PV ends, and the room stays silent for a moment.

"Those outfits..." Cherche bites her lip. "That strategic meshing, those accessories... it's like something from a Parisian runway!"

"Their dancing," Olivia trembles. "The twists they added, the tightened slides... oh, it's better than anything I could _dream_ of doing! I'm a shame to dancers everywhere!"

"Shit," Sully slams her fist on the table, cursing violently. She spits out at last, "Shit, I'm so fucking _gay_."

"I know, dear," Maribelle sighs. "Speaking of which... Lissa. Your girlfriend appears to have vanished."

"W-what?" Lissa glances up, alarmed, and finds Cordelia has indeed disappeared. "I'll be right back, guys!"

And Lissa runs through halls that might be demolished, soon, down the stairs that she has run down a hundred times already as a first-year, and finds Cordelia exactly where she expects her to be: at the piano, in the music room.

" _Dance, right now, and search for your grace,_ " Cordelia sings, and picks out a few chords. " _Like shooting stars, out in space_... no. Too soft. Maybe if I add a fugue here..."

"Cordelia," Lissa interrupts, and sits beside her girlfriend, the one who composes all these songs. "You left... I was worried about you."

She sighs. Brushes her hair, feathery red, from her face. "I know. I'm sorry, Lissa... I just couldn't bear to watch it all the way through. I understand, now, why Grimmleal is more popular... why they have _always_ been more popular. The fault is mine, Lissa."

"Don't say that," Lissa frowns, taking Cordelia's hands in hers. "You're the one who started PEG♠'S! Without your music..."

"Without my music, you would all be better off," Cordelia looks upon her, soft and sad. "I've always written ballads, and light-pop. Nothing that follows the trend. And Grimmleal's video already has more hits than our original."

"You don't have to follow any trends, Cordelia," Lissa straightens, determined. "I think your music, right now, is perfect how it is... It's okay if you want to try something new... but don't do it just because of Grimmleal. If you change something... change it for _you_ , and only you."

Cordelia purses her lips, but says nothing. Lifts her hands to the piano, and tries again.

" _Dance, right now, and learn how to fly_ ," slow, slow, an improvised melody from a past life.

Lissa sings, and it's as if she knows what comes next: " _Like a pegasus in the sky_." 

And these universes, however different they may be-- the song of their heartbeat is the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First years: Lissa, Maribelle, and Olivia
> 
> Second years: Sully, Panne, and Say'ri (who transferred after her own school merged with Valm High)
> 
> Third years and original founders of PEG♠'S: Cordelia (music), Sumia (lyrics), Cherche (costumes)
> 
> As stated, Miriel handles their data and is like a team manager. Nowi was previously in the group, but graduated last year.


	19. 14: but me you have forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she says it's fate, then laughs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reincarnation au/fe14 crossover. word count 500

They do not remember who they were, in some worlds; they know not what they could have even _been_. It seems they forget each other completely in more universes than they recall.

In some timelines, Lissa bumps into a harried woman with too many packages then never sees her again, never knows what she has missed. Some timelines, they work at the same job, and see each other every day without once recognizing their true selves. Some timelines, a Cordelia who is born in Valm slays a cleric whose name she does not care to know, only that she is Ylissean and thus an enemy.

But in some timelines, Lissa feels the oddest pang as she pays her restaurant bill, and reads "Manager: Cordelia" within the receipt lines she usually ignores. Sometimes, they wonder if there isn't something peculiar about the other secretary on the seventh floor, perhaps if they had gone to kindergarten together. Sometimes, Cordelia is struck with the profoundest sense of remorse she has ever felt in her entire life, upon slaying a cleric at war.

In those universes, though, life goes on, as easily as if they had never met at all.

But in one world, if only one-- they remember, though they do not recall enough names or events or places to say for certain it is a past or future life. The _feeling_ , though, has survived those lives against all odds, and Ophelia whispers to her beloved, "We have loved in other worlds aplenty, we are destined."

Caeldori's hair tickles her nose when she laughs. "That sounds like the plot of a love story, Lady Dusk."

"But merely gaze towards the skies, o knight-captain of my heart," and she extends her fingers towards the stars. "They shall tell legends of us, someday. And we shall remember each other, too, when our own names have been lost to history and our bodies, raised among the stars. Our hearts alone will recall."

Caeldori sighs that dreamy sigh Ophelia adores so. "I will never again want for poetry, as long as we are together. Even in all the novels I've read, I never once thought... well. I suppose I'll have to be more eloquent, if I wish to be a proper match for you."

"If you must change, then change only for yourself, and none other. I love you as you were... as you are... and as you shall someday become," Ophelia inhales, as if in a spiritual reverie. "To hear you speak is like listening to a song, one that never ends."

"But songs _do_ end," Caeldori ventures, and squeezes her hand. "Songs and stories... and even lives end."

"Not ours," Ophelia beams, and her smile is like the sun. "Never ours."

Caeldori, then, falls silent. Listens to Ophelia's heartbeat, beneath her breast. It is the rhythm, she thinks, and when her own heart flutters, that is the tune.

"I'll remember," Caeldori promises, and in a world that is years away, Cordelia learns how to dance.


	20. 15: stand to face me beloved // and open out the grace of your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and listening left your father's golden house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> return to canonverse. word count 555

Here and now, though paths do oft diverge-- there in Ylisstol's chapel, with veils over their cheeks, they stand before the altar and exchange those softest vows.

The legends will speak of it in years to come: how elegant the ceremony, how beautifully both brides stood, and with tender eyes, gazed upon each other. Cordelia wears white, untouched, with golden bracelets that gleam more brightly than even her armor, but Lissa...

Well, Cordelia thinks, Lissa never _quite_  learned to keep her skirts from dragging in the mud. It is not white as it was meant to be, but Cordelia only smiles, fond. The rouge of autumn's leaves cling to the dampness of Lissa's gown, and these bursts of red are for Cordelia alone. She carries roses in her bouquet, and marigolds, and daisies, but o-- what Cordelia wouldn't give to place them in her hair instead, for the delicate veil is not yet beautiful as Lissa's warm eyes beneath a coronet of flowers.

At last, when the words are exchanged-- "You bet I do!" and "With all my heart, yes."-- bands are placed around fingers once bare, and the promise is sealed with a slow, tender kiss.

Lissa smiles all the way through, and Cordelia cannot stem the urge to kiss her again.

And when she carries the princess over the threshold of her rooms, the knights' barracks begin to feel like a home though they lay empty yet. Lissa brings warmth with her, and every place she touches feels somehow brighter, somehow less lonely.

"I'm afraid these rooms don't have quite the amenities of the castle, my lady," says Cordelia, but thinks instead, _my wife_.

"Come on, you can't expect me to complain about _that_ , after we spent the whole war sleeping on the ground," Lissa chuckles. "Unless you wanted to move into my rooms in the castle?"

"It's a tempting offer, but I don't think I could bear to do it," Cordelia admits, sighs. "Since that day at the border, the Pegasus Knight division is no more. Perhaps we never shall be, again. The thought of these barracks, completely empty... it's a foolish thought, but I feel as if they would truly be gone. My division... and all of the sisters who used to be in it."

"Then I'm more than happy to be with you, wherever you want to live," Lissa beams. "Besides... just having a real bed is enough for me, right now. It's a little dusty, but I've seen way worse while marching."

"Still... it scarcely seems fit for a princess," Cordelia touches Lissa's cheek, brushes her hair from her face.

"I think it's just right for _this_ princess," Lissa, with a wink, lifts her muddied train-- and Cordelia, gloriously, laughs.

It is a song to Lissa's ears, that rare laugh of Cordelia's. It is a song that has enchanted her completely, the notes playing on her ears, and listening, she leaves the Exalted house of her forefathers to chase after it. Wherever it may lead her next, she does not know, but Lissa has never been a woman satisfied with gilded cages. This love of hers, it feels the sea-air in her hair, a feather upon her cheek, their bare feet running through meadows or gardens or time itself.

Her heart dances, and Cordelia's voice is her home now.

**Author's Note:**

> **Cordelia - Knight Paragon**
> 
> **Lissa - Sprightly Cleric**
> 
> Not even peacetime could dull the lovely Cordelia's knightly edge, and she became a figurehead for all Ylissean warriors. Her wife, Lissa, craved for adventure, and so they traveled the world in search of knight recruits. The legends of their love were told in many a tale beside a crackling hearth.


End file.
